“I didn’t,” muttered Ada, but she refused to meet her teacher’s eyes.
“I don’t want a race on a foul,” argued Betty pluckily, for her skinned elbow was smarting madly. “Let’s begin over.”
She had her way, too, and this time won without interference, though Ada was so furious that Bobby was seriously concerned.
“She looks mad enough to put something in your soup,” she told Betty, as they went in to dress and have Betty’s elbow attended to. “What is it, Caroline?”
“Two young gentlemen to see you, Miss Bobby and Miss Betty,” announced the maid importantly. “They is waiting in the parlor. Mrs. Eustice says you all should go right up.”
In the parlor the girls found two slim, uniformed young figures who rose like well-set-up ramrods at their entrance.
“Bob!” ejaculated Betty, her voice betraying her pleasure. “Bob, you look splendid!”
Tommy Tucker glanced hopefully at Bobby.
“Don’t I look splendid, too?” he asked.
“You’re overshadowed by Bob,” said Bobby mischievously. “However, when not compared with him, I dare say you look rather well.”
CHAPTER XV
NORMA MAKES REPAIRS
This had to content the Tucker twin who took Bobby’s chaffing good-humoredly.
Bob Henderson did indeed look very well. The uniform was most becoming, and though he was studying hard to make up for lack of preparation, his clear eyes and skin and firm muscles told of a wise schedule that included plenty of outdoor exercise.
“We want you girls to come over to a practice game,” announced Tommy Tucker presently. “We’ve got rather jolly rooms, and we thought if you brought Miss Thingumbob along we could have you in for tea and show you the sights. Do you think the powers that be will say yes?”
“Well, I don’t know,” answered Betty thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you Salsette boys had much to do with girls. Of course the whole school goes to the big football games, but asking us to see a practice game is something new. Of course it will be difficult to get an afternoon when every one is free—”
“Every one!” exploded Bob. “Who said anything about every one? We don’t want the whole school—just you and Bobby and Louise and Frances and Libbie and the Guerin girls.”
“Sure, the same bunch that came up on the train,” said Tommy Tucker. “Lead me to Mrs. Eustice and I’ll ask her.”
“Mrs. Eustice is not in this afternoon,” announced an extremely cold and disapproving voice. “Have you permission, young ladies, to see these er—callers?”
It was the elderly teacher whom Tommy had tormented on the train!
For once in his life that young man was thoroughly abashed. He threw Betty an appealing look that asked her to save him.
“Miss Prettyman, may I present my friends?” said the girl with the formality that is subtly flattering to an older woman. “This is Bob Henderson, who came from the West with me and who is really like my brother, since my uncle is his guardian. And this is Tommy Tucker, who lives in Washington.”
“How do you do, Robert and Thomas?” said Miss Prettyman austerely. “Did Mrs. Eustice know you had callers?” she persisted, turning to the girls. “She took the last bus to Edentown.”
“Yes, she knew. It is all right. Caroline said so,” babbled Betty, in frantic terror lest the boys make the mistake of telling Miss Prettyman about the proposed visit.
“What was it you wanted to ask Mrs. Eustice, young man?” the teacher demanded next. “I am her secretary and try to save her work whenever possible. Perhaps I can answer your question.”
Behind Miss Prettyman’s narrow back Betty signaled wildly.
“Don’t tell—hush!” she wig-wagged, laying her finger against her lips.
Tommy stared at her idiotically, his mouth gaping.
“Thank you, but only Mrs. Eustice could really give us an answer,” said Bob, coming to the rescue of his stricken chum. “Betty, will you deliver our message and perhaps you can telephone the answer?”
“No Shadyside girl is allowed to telephone Salsette Academy,” announced Miss Prettyman, with grim satisfaction.
Betty had not known of this rule, but she realized it was undoubtedly in existence.
“We’ll let you know some way,” she promised.
Still pursued by Miss Prettyman’s icy glare, the wretched boys backed out of the room and the unfortunate Tommy walked into a handsome china jardiniere with disastrous results. There was a sickening crash, a ladylike scream from Miss Prettyman, and Betty heard Bob’s voice in a tone of suppressed fury: “You’ve done it now, you idiot!”
Bobby giggled, of course, but Miss Prettyman, who had followed the boys into the hall (“I think she thought we’d steal something on the way out,” Bob confided later to Betty) maintained her poise.
“I’m—I’m awfully sorry,” faltered the culprit. “I hope it wasn’t very expensive. I’ll pay Mrs. Eustice, of course, or buy her another one—”
“That jardiniere happened to be imported from Nippon,” remarked Miss Prettyman coldly. “I doubt if it can ever be replaced. It has stood in that exact spot for seven years. But then, naturally, our callers are accustomed to leaving a room gracefully. I’m sure I—”
The agonized Tommy tried to get in a word, failed, and took a step toward the door. His foot caught in the rug, and for one dreadful moment he thought he was doomed to create another scene. As he recovered his balance, Ada Nansen came down the stairs.
“What was that noise we heard a few minutes ago?” she asked sweetly, looking at the boys.
Betty and Bobby, laughing in the doorway of the reception room, the unyielding Miss Prettyman, and the cool and curious Ada swam before Tommy’s eyes. Bob retained his presence of mind and, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tommy before him with the other, managed to effect their exit.
“Gosh, Bob, wasn’t that awful!” sighed poor Tommy, when they were finally clear of the school portal. “Don’t I always have bad luck? How could I know we were going to walk smack into that dame? She remembered us, too.”
“She remembered you,” said Bob significantly. “And you were within one of asking her to let the girls come over to the game, too! Didn’t you know, you poor fish, that she would jump for joy if she could have a chance to turn you down?”
“Well, anyway,” replied Tommy more contentedly, “Betty will let us know. She can find a way.”
Betty lost no time in putting the invitation before Mrs. Eunice when she returned from her town expedition. The principal knew all about Bob through Mr. Gordon’s letters and those from Mrs. Littell, and she knew most of the parents of the other lads Betty mentioned.
“I see no reason, my dear,” she said graciously when she heard of the morning’s visit, “why you should not go. Get the consent of your chaperone and then settle on the afternoon. How many of you are invited?”
“Seven,” answered Betty truthfully. “But I want Constance Howard to go, Mrs. Eustice. The boys didn’t know about her. She is Louise’s roommate you see, and we eight always do everything together.”
“All right, Constance may go, too,” acquiesced Mrs. Eustice.
Betty thanked her warmly and danced off to find Bobby. Then they flew to ask Miss Anderson to be their chaperone, a duty that young woman assumed cordially, and before bedtime Betty had written Bob a note to say that they would be over Friday afternoon about half-past four.
Watched a little enviously by the others, the eight piled into the school bus the next Friday afternoon. Miss Anderson tripped down the steps, took her place among them, and they were off.
“Did you see that lovely blouse Ada had on?” Norma Guerin whispered to Betty. “I do wish I could have one like that to wear with my suit.”
“You look fifty times prettier than she does,” flared Betty loyally. “And you know I’ve told you to borrow anything of mine whenever you want to.”
“I know it,” admitted Norma. “But I can’t borrow
clothes! Silly or not, I just can’t seem to! I don’t mean to complain all the time, either, but I don’t believe mother or granny realized how difficult it was going to be. Alice cried so hard this afternoon when she started to get dressed I thought she’d never get her eyes right again. They look red yet.”
Sure enough, Alice’s eyes were suspiciously pink about the corners. Betty knew that the Guerin girls were unhappy, not alone because they could not have as many or as pretty frocks as the other girls, but because they were constantly worried about financial affairs at home. They had both been made the confidantes of their parents to a greater degree than is customary in many families, and Betty shrewdly suspected that Norma had kept her father’s books for him.
“I wish I could get hold of that treasure, or a part of it,” Betty thought. “Isn’t it maddening to think of a string of pearls at the bottom of a chasm and the girls to whom it should go struggling along on next to nothing!”
They were half-way around the lake when the motor slowed down and the bus stopped.
“What’s the matter, George?” Miss Anderson asked.
“Don’t know, Ma’am,” answered the driver, a rather sleepy-looking middle-aged man. “Guess I’ll have to investigate her.”
Scratching his head, he proceeded to “investigate,” and at the end of fifteen minutes hazarded an opinion that they were “out of luck.”
“Looks like I’ll have to go back to the school garage and get ’em to send us a tow,” he announced pleasantly.
“We want to go to the Academy!” chorused the girls. “We’re late now. Oh, George, can’t you fix it?”
“Betty, don’t you know anything about cars?” appealed Miss Anderson, who had discovered that Betty was apt to be invaluable in an emergency of any kind.
Betty had to confess that her experience had been confined to horses. The Littell girls had been used to cars all their lives, but like the majority of such fortunates, knew nothing about them beyond the colors suitable for upholstery.
“I’ve helped my dad with his car,” ventured Norma diffidently. “This isn’t the same make, but perhaps I can tell what the matter is.”
The beautiful, expensive school bus was in fact another type than the shabby, rattly affair Dr. Guerin made spin over the rough country roads. However, Betty remembered at least one night, and she knew her experience had been duplicated by many others, when the noise of the asthmatic little car had been like sweetest music in her ears.
The doctor’s daughter took off her plain jacket, rolled back her white cuffs, and bent over the engine. George regarded her respectfully, and Miss Anderson and the girls watched anxiously. If Norma could not send them on their way it meant the trip must be given up.
Norma put her slim hands down among the oily plugs, selected a tool from the kit George held out to her, and did something mysterious to the “innards.”
“Start her,” she commanded briefly.
Obediently George took the wheel and touched the self-starter. The engine purred contentedly.
“By gum!” cried George inelegantly, “she’s done it!”
He produced a towel from the box for Norma, who managed to rub off most of the grease from her hands. She put on her jacket and climbed into her place between Betty and her sister. George proceeded to make up for lost time at a speed that left them breathless.
“Here’s the girl who got us here!” said Betty to Bob, when the group of cadets met their bus at the athletic field where several cars were drawn up on the sidelines.
“Then she shall have my fur coat and my best curly chrysanthemum,” announced Tommy Tucker gallantly, throwing a handsome raccoon fur coat over Norma’s shoulders and presenting her with a magnificent yellow chrysanthemum.
CHAPTER XVI
THE NUTTING PARTY
To the boy’s surprise Bobby, who was usually aloof and liked to tease him, squeezed his arm surreptitiously.
“You’re a dear!” she told him enthusiastically.
“Girls are a queer lot,” the dazed youth confided to Bob, as they went back to their quarters. “Here I handed over my coat to that Norma Guerin and gave her the flower I’d been saving for Bobby, just to pay Bobby back for being so snippy to me over at school. And she calls me a dear and is nicer to me than she’s been in months!”
Bob briefly outlined something of the Guerin history, for Betty had told him of the lost treasure in her hurried note, and hinted his belief that the girls had very little money in comparison to Shadyside standards.
“Shucks—money isn’t anything!” was Tommy’s answer to the recital, with the easy assurance of a person who has never been without a comfortable competence. “They’re nice girls, and we’ll pass the word that the boys are to show them a good time.”
As a result, when after the conclusion of the game, the girls and Miss Anderson were ushered upstairs into the cozy suite of rooms the cadets occupied, Norma and Alice found themselves plied with attentions. Miss Anderson poured the hot chocolate and made friends with the shy Sydney Cooke, who had been dreading this visit all the afternoon. Indeed his chums had threatened to lock him in the clothes closet in order that they might be sure of his attendance.
Winifred Marion Brown, in addition to his ability as a checker player, was a good pianist, and he obligingly played for them to dance. The piano belonged to the Tucker twins. Norma and Alice were “rushed” with partners, and they quite forgot their clothes in the enjoyment of dancing to irresistible music.
Libbie had brought a book of poems for Timothy Derby, who solemnly loaned her one of his in exchange. This odd pair remained impervious to all criticisms, and certainly many of those voiced were frank to the point of painfulness.
“But their natures can not understand the lyric appeal,” said Libbie sadly. Her English teacher moaned over her spelling and rejoiced in her themes.
Finally Miss Anderson insisted they must go, and the bouquet of flowers on the tea table was plucked apart to reveal nine little individual bouquets, one for each guest.
“Good-bye, and thank you for a lovely party,” said Miss Anderson gaily.
“Do you know?” blurted Teddy Tucker, “you’re my idea of a chaperone! Most of ’em are such dubs and kill-joys!”
Which tactful speech proved to be the best Teddy could have made.
A week of small pleasures and hard study followed this “glorious Friday afternoon.”
Bobby, for a wonder, remembered her promise of good behavior, and by herculean effort managed to be on the “starred” list for the Saturday set aside for the nutting expedition.
“We’ll go after lunch,” planned Betty. “Miss Anderson says if we strike off toward the woods at the back of the school we ought to come to a grove of hickory nut trees.”
The eight girls, ready for their tramp, came in to lunch attired in heavy wool skirts and stout shoes and carried their sweaters. Ada Nansen glanced complacently at her own suede pumps and silk stockings.
“It’s hard to tell which is really the farmer’s daughter today,” she drawled. “Perhaps we all ought to assume that uniform out of kindness.”
Ada sat at the table directly behind Norma, and not a girl at either table could possibly miss the significance of her remarks. Their import, it developed, had been plain to Miss Lacey who, on her way to her own table, had overheard. Miss Lacey was a quiet, rather drab little woman, misleading in her effacement of self. She knew more about her pupils than they often suspected.
“Ada,” she said quietly, stopping by the girl, “you may leave the table. If you will persist in acting like a naughty little six year old girl, you must be treated as one.”
Ada flounced out of her chair and from the room. Her departure created a ripple of curiosity. It was most unusual for a girl to be dismissed from table, and had Ada only known it, she had drawn the attention of the whole school to herself.
Miss Lacey went on to her seat, without a glance at the flushed faces of Norma and Alice.
“Some da
y,” said Bobby furiously, “I’m going to throw a plate at that girl!”
“No, you’re not,” contradicted Betty. “Then Mrs. Eustice would rise up and send you from the room and you’d feel about half the size Ada does now. For mercy’s sake, don’t descend to anybody’s level—make ’em come up to fight on yours.”
They were all glad to get through the meal and find themselves outdoors. It was a perfect autumn day, warm and hazy, and the red and gold of the leaves showed burnished from the hillside. They tramped rather silently at first, and then, as the tense mood wore off, their tongues were loosened and they chattered like magpies.
“Here’s a tree!” shouted Louise and Frances, who were in the lead.
When they had picked all the nuts on the ground, Bobby essayed to climb the tree. She made rather sad work of the effort, for a shag-bark hickory is not the easiest tree in the world to climb, and after she had torn her skirt in two places and mended it with safety pins, she gave up the attempt.
“Let’s walk further,” she suggested. “We’ll mark our trail as we go like the Indians.”
This idea caught the fancy of the girls, and they marked an elaborate trail, building little mounds at every turn and leaving odd arrangements of stones to mark their passing.
“Come on, I’ll race you,” shouted Bobby suddenly. “I feel just like exercising.”
Betty wondered what she called the scramble through the woods, but she, too, was ready for a run. They set off pellmell, laughing and shouting.
“Look out!” shrieked Betty, stopping so suddenly that Libbie and Louise fell against her. “Look! I almost ran right into it!”
She pointed ahead to where the ground fell away abruptly. A great chasm, like an angry scar, was cut through the earth, and on the side opposite to the girls a steep hill came down in an uncompromising slant.
“What a dandy hill for coasting!” ejaculated Bobby. “Let’s come up here this winter. We can steer away from this hole.”
“That’s no hole,” said Norma Guerin, in an odd voice. “That’s Indian Chasm. And it’s miles long.”
Betty stared at her. She had thought Indian Chasm many miles away.
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